


A kind of truce

by Thaum



Series: Of elves and dwarves [6]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Emotionally Repressed, Family, Feelings, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Nature, Outing, Spiritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 18:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14384751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thaum/pseuds/Thaum
Summary: While Legolas and Gimli try to spend a quiet evening at a fire in the woods away from the palace, Thranduil makes a strange appearance. When he takes Gimlis side in an argument, the dwarf is absolutely befuddled. Either, miracles happen or that elf is drunk. Or might there be more to it?





	A kind of truce

**Author's Note:**

> In case you're asking yourself, if I have no life: no, I haven't. I am bedbound at the moment and you are doomed to survive my writing because I am going to die from boredom otherwise.
> 
> English isn't my first language. Be nice.

"He is right."

Gimli slipped his axe out of his hand and it clattered to the ground, hitting his foot. He didn't feel it. He had seen a lot of things beyond belief in his life. He had fought creatures nobody would imagine existed. He had went through the hell and back  _and_ Moria. He had fallen in love with someone his father told him to be evil impersonated and lived through it. In conclusion: he thought, nothing could surprise him anymore and he had seen it all. My, how he had been wrong. Slowly, he turned his head, and there he stood in all his glory. He would have known that voice out of thousands, even if it would be nothing but a whisper. In fact, at some point of his life, he had some nightmares about it. A grin started to spread over his face.

"Well, Durins balls, I didn't think I would see this day. I believe I can die right now, there is clearly nothing else left to wish for."

And he did. What he couldn't believe on the other hand was, that the Elvenking didn't take the perfect opportunity for a retort in offering his assistance. Instead, he just stood there and watched them in a strange way.

Gimli studied him and threw a glance back to Legolas who seemed to be quite the same way flabbergasted, as he felt himself: his mouth hang open in a very unelfly fashion. The dwarfs grin widened. Whatever would happen from now on, this was really a day to remember. This was almost too good, to be true.

"Father."

Legolas facial expression laid somewhere between perplexity, unease and disbelief and he moved hastily a little away from Gimli. Thranduil tilted his head in aknowledgement. Something about him was off. Gimli had never met him outside the palace, and normally the crease between his brows indicated, how much more it would take to push him over the edge at the very moment. Most times, it wasn't very much. The crease had ceased to exist. He wasn't quite sure, what he should make out of this.

"The stones are singing."

This was getting better and better. Gimli sat back and took a puff from his pipe. It had gone out. He didn't recognize it. He turned back to Legolas again.

"You see? Like I said. Do you still dare to disagree?"

Legolas fidgeted. He actually _fidgeted_. Gimli would never forget this glorious happening. He wished he could tell Gloin of it. But his father would probably think he had lost his mind. Or he wouldn't and slap him silly instead for teaming up with the arch enemy.

"But.. how? They are not alive. Do you hear them?" Legolas asked.

Thranduil looked up to the treetops. "Sometimes. But I do not understand their words."

Legolas listened intensly to something Gimli did not hear. He himself had never heard a stone make any sound except when it hit his head. He had never been good with this spiritual things and Gloin had always lamented about it. Traditions and heritage and things that should be respected and done and not done and on and on to no ends. Gimli stared into the fire and remembered a certain conversation that included similiar topics and biased opinions about what a dwarf should think and care for and what not. He puffed again, took his pipe out of his mouth and stared annoyed at it before he sighed and tried to light it again with a burning twig.

"Sometimes, the trees do. The wood understands the language of stone."

Gimli had absolutely no idea, who this elf was, but it wasn't the Elvenking. His appearance seemed radically altered. Sure, he still was initimidating tall and all this elven grace stuff. But usually he seemed to fight against everything and everybody around him, ordered and forced things to be his way. He was all cold unwavering judgement and authority. Now he wasn't. He stood straight and unmoving, as always, but he didn't fight. He didn't order. He just was and there was no need for an argument, because it seemed to be enough. Gimli realized, here under the trees inmidst the wood, it was the first time, he saw him blending in and _belonging_ somewhere. Somehow this was a very disturbing thought. He wasn't even sure why it unsettled him until he found, it was also the first time he had thought about the Elvenking as an actual person. He noticed, he stared at Thranduil and dropped his gaze when he met his eyes as if he knew of his inner conversations. Sometimes, Gimli wasn't sure, if he did. Then again, he was rather convinced, he wouldn't be alive anymore if that were the case. He glanced back at Legolas who felt obviously uncomfortable but was at least sitting still by now and seemed to ponder his fathers words.

"They say, they do not tell elves."

"No they do not."

"Will you tell me?"

"It is a song as old as the world."

"As far as it is not as long as that, we are not in a hurry," Gimli said and met Thranduils eyes again. "Go on, take a seat. Beer?" He gestured at the opposite site of the fire and couldn't believe it when he saw the corner of the elfs mouth twitch. He never imagined it could curve upwards. 

"When they do not tell elves, how do you know?" He asked.

"I am many things, not only an elf."

Gimli remembered quite a few things he had called the Elvenking, but they had very little to do with the matter at hand. This was a chance even if old habits died so very hard. He considered Thranduils words. This was the first kind of real conversation they ever had. He found, he wasn't interested in fucking up. But he surely wouldn't bow and scrape either.

"Like a king, a warrior, a friend of good wine, a.. ", he noticed Legolas stiffen beside him who obviously expected him to go on with something like _"pain in the ass"_ or _"woodland princess"_ , and grinned internally. ".. fierce wielder of the sharpest of all elven blades, named 'sarcasm'? "

Legolas held his breath and for a few seconds the wood was completely silent. Gimli almost expected to hear the chirping of a lonely cricket in the distance.

Then Thranduil actually smiled, Legolas exhaled and Gimli could see, that there was more resemblance between father and son, than he had always thought.

"Things like that. And sometimes I am the wood and the trees are telling."

"I wish I could say I am a rock", Gimli chuckled, "But I am just a dwarf."

"No one is just dwarf, not even a dwarf. I know you to be many things as well, if I like them, or not."

His words had slowed down at the end and with this Thranduil looked onto his son who had blanched considerably and tried to avoid eye contact. Gimli watched the scene and felt his heart skip a beat. Thranduil could not possibly mean, what he thought he meant, couldn't he? Why was his head still attached to his neck? He squinted his eyes at the Elvenking who did of course not sit down at the fire but started to walk - no - glide around the clearing without making a sound. His baritone voice had taken a soft, enchanting quality. It was like listening to the wind without really hearing the words, but knowing the meaning all the same. The dwarf suspected, someone could listen to it for hours without recognizing the time that went by.

"It is a song of longing. They long with all of their being for life. They long for death. It is about admiration, love and loss. It is an eternal melody of watching over the cycle of life and never being a part of it."

Gimli stared at Thranduil. He would have laughed, if it hadn't been so tragical. The king of the elves, who was said to be made of stone, told a dwarf about the perils of immortality in using the very same thing as a parable. The irony, that it was a material of dwarven mastery, never occured to him before. A short while ago this would have made his day. Now it had a stale taste. Was there any possibility, this could be an honest apology? Was that a peace offer? Whatever it was, it was now or never. Gimli fixed his gaze at Thranduils pale eyes and reached slowly beside himself. There he took Legolas hand in his own, entwined their fingers and held it tight. Gimli turned to look at his elf who seemed to be petrified although his hand trembled. Thranduils eyes followed the movement as he watched the scene motionlessly. Then he turned away and sighed.

"Sometimes, a tree forgets about the language of stone and it does not listen. A tree is a tree after all, and a stone a stone. But that does not mean, that the wood does not understand." _I am the wood._

The Elvenking was apparently incapable of an emotional statement that included himself as a person directly. That was something, that very obviously hadn't changed. Legolas was shaking now with his whole body and Gimli realized, he was silently crying. He threw every caution into the wind and took him into his arms. With a sob Legolas put his arms around him and cried into his neck while Gimli stroked his back soothingly. Thranduil averted his eyes and stepped back. His face was unreadable and Gimli almost pitied him. Almost. But he was truly grateful for this truce. It must had been very difficult for the Elvenking and he had served it as well as he could. He respected that. Legolas slowly calmed down and eventually let go of Gimli.

"Thranduil? This means a lot to Legolas. To us. Thank you.."

Thranduil bowed his head, his eyes still at the ground and turned to leave.

".. , father." Gimli added, desperately trying to keep a serious face.

It had just been impossible to resist the temptation. He had wildly fantasized about this situation since Legolas had kissed him for the very first time. He heard a strangled whimpering noise next to him. It sounded, as if someone would stuff his own fist into his mouth as for not to scream. He suspected this someone was as near a heart attack, as he could get.

The fire went out with a hiss and the temperature dropped as Thranduil threw a look at Gimli that could have turned Valinor into a dead wasteland. The indicating crease between his brows, that he had so dearly missed, was back. Nothing ethereal, enchanting or soft was left in the voice, that told him with the superior authority of the Elvenking for the first time this evening something, that was exactly expected.

"Do. Not. Push. Your. Luck. _Dwarf_."

Gimli raised a calming hand and chuckled. There was no land, like homeland.

In an angry whirl of robes, leaves and icy wind Thranduil turned on his heel and left them without another word in pitchblack darkness. Legolas stared at the spot, where he had disappeared and sounded small and weak when he found his voice again.

"I have to beg you to never do this again. I have no idea, what it was, but it was like watching a drunken fool dancing on the edge of a volcano."

"Drunken fool, eh?" Gimli had started to built up the fire again and fumbled blindly with the flint before he turned to look tenderĺy at Legolas who finally began to relax and smile again. The warm light of the flames danced over his face.

"Yes. Because I love that drunken fool very much."


End file.
